


Through a Major Error in Pattern Recognition

by cm (mumblemutter)



Series: Do Over [1]
Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Heroes: Volume 5, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Nathan is put back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through a Major Error in Pattern Recognition

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for everything up to and including episode 4x10, _Brother's Keeper_. See [series header](http://archiveofourown.org/series/1198) for more notes.

_"Whoever Nathan Petrelli was, is gone now. Just some random thoughts in a mass-murderer's head."_

"Okay, look, assuming that I believe any of that. What would it matter?"

+

It takes him a week to realize, if there's going to be an epic battle between Nathan and Sylar over who gets control over Sylar's body, it will be Sylar.

Two weeks to realize just how bad it'll be. But Nathan still yields under his touch, still lets Peter put his fingers on his neck and lean in, breathe. He shivers, sometimes, and his face changes, becomes ugly and raw, but Peter will whisper into his ear, nonsense things that they've been saying to each other for years, and he'll settle down. "I'm sorry, Nathan," Peter says now, his free hand on the back of Nathan's neck. Holding him there, there's enough of Nathan left to implicitly trust. The needle slides in easily enough, déjà vu, right into the neck, and Nathan's eyes only widen a little before he falls, tumbles, into Peter's arms. It's supposed to be strong enough to kill a horse, but Peter packs syringes and extra vials, just in case.

He flies, Nathan's body heavy and reassuring in his arms because he doesn't trust leaving him alone three thousand miles away. A rental car at the edge of LA, he lays Nathan out in the trunk and drives the rest of the way.

Matt Parkman is home, surprisingly enough. "All charges dropped," he says sourly, at Peter's raised eyebrow. "Apparently it was all a huge misunderstanding. I wasn't even there." It's not a power Peter remembers he ever enjoyed having, too distracting, too difficult to control. Ma always told him though, back when she'd still speak to him in that disappointed tone of voice, "You could do great things, Peter, if you only applied yourself more." But he'd never quite had that motivation before. All the lives he's saved, and not a single one of them has mattered as much.

"Where's Sylar," Matt says, or demands. "He's not with me anymore."

"He's gone. He'll be - it's taken care of, Matt. Don't worry about it." His hand on Matt's arm, and Matt gives in, hot knife through butter. Peter retreats back, sings a song loudly in his head, a song he remembers Nathan singing to him when he was young, about bridges and marching. Just in case anyone's listening. "You should go back to your family. What's important."

Matt nods his head, says, "Sure Peter. You take care of yourself." He sounds mildly confused, but Peter's already leaving. He doesn't notice, Peter's sure, what Peter takes before he leaves.

+

There's something to be said about how he'd never expected to be the type of guy to end up in a car with a body in the trunk. But there's a first time for everything, or so he's heard. He talks to Nathan while he drives, aimless things, mostly. He'd never had a brother who was the type to listen, post-coital or otherwise. Even though Nathan, often enough, heard most things that mattered. Most things. "I hope we don't get pulled over for speeding or something, Nathan. Awkward, right?"

There's a motel that's out of the way enough and sleazy enough that no-one asks any questions, and if someone catches him carrying Nathan to his room, well, that person might as well just forget that they ever did.

+

 

It had taken him exactly two seconds to realize that, if it came down to a Nathan that existed in a body that belonged to a sick fuck like Sylar, and a Nathan that existed not at all, there was no argument, none whatsoever.

+

It's harder, and easier, than he thought it would be. Nathan gasps, and Peter holds him down before his strength returns, dragging out all of Sylar and re-assembling whatever's left of Nathan, and he knows Nathan far, far better than Matt ever could. He tells himself he's being impartial, building on what Matt put there and removing the parts where Sylar's crept in, that he's not putting back together a version of Nathan that he wanted, because Nathan himself has always been exactly what he wanted, just as he is. Maybe, at least he tries his best.

"Pete," Nathan says, when he's done. He laughs against Peter's neck. "What are you doing - what's going on?"

"What a guy always wants to hear, Nathan. Is that how you managed to get yourself elected?"

"Yeah, that's why I had to rig the ballot to win." But his body relaxes, arms come up lazily to wrap around Peter. "I don't remember," he says dazedly, and Peter shushes him, and kisses him, and tugs on his clothes, and eventually he stops talking.

+

"My brother does not die. Do you understand, René?"

"Your brother is dead. The sooner you learn to accept that-"

"No. My brother does not die."

+

"Oh wonderful, here we go again," Sylar says. "I have to say, and here I thought I was messed up? But no, you Petrelli brothers bring perversion up to an entirely new level."

"Shut up, Sylar. And go away."

"If you touch your brother I will." He pauses. "That shouldn't be too hard, knowing you. I'm getting really tired of people stealing my body, Peter. How about we make this time the last."

"I agree," Peter says, and René suddenly turning up to lean against the doorway would be a nice bit of dramatic emphasis, if only there were anyone other than Peter around to appreciate it. "Say goodbye, Sylar."

"What are you doing," Sylar asks, and it's nice, to hear the panic in his voice instead of the usual smug insufferability. "What do you think you're-"

"Shh, Sylar. Shh," Peter says, and he can almost feel René's fingers in his head, reaching out to tug at delicate silver strands that never belonged there in the first place. Nothing but memory, as far as these go, and René, he was always very good at making memories just disappear.

"All of it is your responsibility now," René says, when it's done. "Good luck, Peter."

+

At some point Peter thinks, if flying is Nathan's primary power, and everything else that was Sylar's was sense memory, written on the lines and curves of his newly imagined body, then they're all powers that he can also absorb. But the power he has now, he wants to keep, just in case. Nathan leans forward, and puts his hand on Peter's wrist. "Your watch," he says gently. "Is two minutes too fast."

Peter pulls away. "I'm hungry, Nathan. You hungry? How about an early dinner. We can go to that place in Brooklyn you like so much. The one where the manager always treats me like your mentally challenged ward."

"I could eat," Nathan says, and his eyes are distant and wide. "I don't remember that place though. That's odd, don't you think, Pete?"

"You must be getting forgetful in your old age." Peter tries for a smile, but it comes out more as a grimace. "Guess I'll just have to remember everything important for you."

Nathan makes a face. "If you could give me the past two weeks that'd be nice."

Peter curves his fingers around Nathan's hand. Nathan grabs back, tightens the grip. "Only the important parts, Nathan. Forget everything else." Nathan's thoughts are jumbled, empty spaces interspersed with bright flashes of color and emotions. "I'm sorry," he says then.

"For what?"

"Nothing. Come on. Before it gets dark." He pulls Nathan up, rests a palm on his cheek. Everything important is here.

\- end -


End file.
